“You infected me! You brought an infection from your lover!” I cry to my husband, tears in my eyes, waving his test results in front of him.
“It’s nothing, Varya. Let’s just get a divorce, and nobody will find out about it.”
He remains calm and frowns, clenching his fists decisively.
And I can barely breathe, not understanding how he can talk about divorce so coldly and about his negligence—when I’m six months pregnant. ***
My husband and I have been married for twenty-seven years. Two adult children started their own families, and I’m about to give birth to our third child—one more girl— the one we’ve wanted for so long.
I thought my home was a full cup and I was the happiest woman in the world. Until a call came from the hospital.
They told me my husband had been diagnosed with an infection they must inform me about.